The Letter Writer
by MaidofShadow
Summary: "Dear friend, I really don't know how I'm supposed to start this letter. What can I say that will make you understand how important this is to me? How important it is that you respond? Nothing really. Still, I'd better try." Will is Jack Sparrow's personal assistant and he hates it. He needs an escape and one day a letter arrives that allows him just that. Modern day AU Will/OC
1. Prologue

**Yeah, I know, I know. I shouldn't be starting a new story but I've been meaning to write this one for a very long time. This prologue is sort of boring but I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can. It's an modern day POTC AU and its a Will/OC story. I really hope you like it.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.**

Prologue:

She sat in her tiny New York apartment on one afternoon in March, thinking. There was a pen and paper set out in front of her on the desk of her small home. She thought for hours about how to start the letter, about how to go about this.

Eventually, the room felt too stuffy and she couldn't stand it anymore. She grabbed her keys, the pen, the paper and a hardcover book and left. She went up the stairs to the very top of the building. She opened the door to the roof almost desperately, in an attempt to get to fresh air, in an attempt to get to the sky. She took a deep breath as she walked out onto the roof, splaying out her fingers to feel the wind, closing her eyes to hear the city.

She loved it up here. Here she could see everything, hear everything, be a part of everything. Here she could understand the world. Here she could be free.

She sat in a worn down lawn chair that someone had placed on the roof years ago and forgotten about. She placed her paper on top of her book and put the pen in her mouth. She just needed the right start. Once she had that she knew that the words would flow out of her as they always did. She thought for a moment before putting her pen to paper.

_Dear friend,_ she began.

* * *

><p>He sat down at his desk and rubbed his temples. He honestly hated his job. He hated his boss, he hated his office, he hated his profession. Still, it paid the bills. All he could do was wait for the work day to be over, as he did every day.<p>

Finally he was allowed to leave. He said goodbye to the secretary and waved at the woman who made everyone coffee but whose name he had never found out. He did this every day. He was stuck in a routine and he hated it.

He wanted something more from life. He wanted the world to be everything he had hoped it would be when he was a child. He wanted to try something new, to be someone different. He wanted to escape. But he couldn't do that.

He needed to work to pay the bills; and he needed to have the life he did for work. It was a vicious cycle but he was trapped and he didn't know how to get out.

As he started his car, he couldn't help but think that he wasn't living. He was simply existing.

* * *

><p>She sent the letter the next day. She had chosen a random city by throwing a dart at a map. The actual address she had chosen had just been the first word to pop into her head and the first number. She had checked on the internet, the street was real and the building was too. It was an apartment building so she chose another random number for the specific apartment. <em>This probably won't work, <em>she thought_, but I have to try. I have to try._

* * *

><p>He walked into his building and said hi to the doorman, then went straight to the mailbox. He grabbed everything in it and headed for the stairs to his apartment, just as he always did. He opened the door and threw his keys into the bowl where he kept them before going to grab a drink from the fridge. Once he had it he settled on the couch and began sorting through the mail.<p>

_Bills, bills, bills,_ he thought. _It's always bills._

He nearly missed the last envelope. It was different from the others. For one thing it was the type of envelope that people sent birthday cards in, companies didn't use that kind. There was no little plastic window. There was, however, a stamp. And handwriting; there was handwriting on the front. The letter had his address on it but not his name.

He gazed at it curiously, wondering if he should open it. Eventually he decided that he should. What did he have to lose?

He opened the letter and began to read the elegant handwriting.

_Dear friend…_

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean so much to me and it would mean the next chapter is more likely to come faster. Tell me what you think!  
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**Thanks,**

**~Liliana**


	2. Chapter 1

**New chapter! This is almost like another prologue but the story will get going in the next chapter, trust me. I really hope you like this and continue to read my story. Thanks to the 2 people that reviewed; it means a lot! Please enjoy the new chapter.**

**PS there is a tiny Supernatural reference because it seemed appropriate (I do not own Supernatural)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.**

Chapter 1:

_Dear friend,_

_I really don't know how I'm supposed to start this letter. What can I say that will make you understand how important this is to me? How important it is that you respond? Nothing really. You wouldn't understand. I'm not saying that you aren't smart enough to understand, I'm saying that I'm not smart enough to say it in a way that would make sense to anyone else._

_Still, I'd better try._

_I have some misplaced sense of martyrdom that tells me I must help at least one person before I die. I mean, really help someone. Do something life changing. This letter is supposed to be your salvation, as well as mine._

_I know I'm not an angel and shouldn't pretend to be one but I need this to work. Too little people have people who are there for them. Too little people have someone who will understand them. I want to understand you. I want you to understand me. I want you to have someone you can turn to._

_So I will pretend to be an angel. I will do my best to understand you and be here for you. I will do my best to save you and I will do my best to save myself._

_Sincerely,_

_An Angel of the Lord_

* * *

><p>It had taken him nearly a full week to respond to the letter. He hadn't been able to find the right words. He didn't know how to tell Angel, as he called the writer of the letter in his head, that yes, he wanted what they offered. He wanted it desperately. In the end this is what he came up with:<p>

_Dear Angel of the Lord,_

_I have considered your letter and thought about your offer at great length before deciding to respond, which means I will go along with your quest for salvation. What that means exactly, I don't know but I am hoping you'll explain it in your next letter. I actually hope you'll explain a lot of things in your next letter such as who you are and why and how you chose me. Until you tell me who you are, I won't tell you who I am._

_Sincerely,_

_Friend_

He cringed at the formalness of the letter and how cold he sounded but he didn't have the way with words that Angel did and it was the best he could come up with. He just hoped it would be good enough.

* * *

><p>She received the response about 2 weeks after she sent the first letter. It was dreadfully awkwardly written but she didn't mind. They had responded which was more than she had ever hoped. She wrote back right away and sent it the very next day, hoping to God that they wouldn't change their mind.<p>

* * *

><p>He got the new letter a few days after he had sent his. He had been checking the mailbox eagerly each day since he had responded, hoping that a letter would be waiting for him and that it hadn't been picked up by his girlfriend. He didn't want her opening the letter. He didn't want her knowing about the letter. He wanted the letter to be a secret, something just for him. Angel didn't know his name, so his girlfriend wouldn't know it was for him and not for her. Or worse, because there wasn't a name on the return address she might throw it out and he couldn't let that happen.<p>

When he had finally gotten the letter, he had smiled and tucked it in his pocket for later. He read the letter that night once his girlfriend had left to go out with friends. It said:

_Dear friend,_

_Thank you for responding. I was beginning to think that you wouldn't. It was definitely a pleasant surprise to see your letter in the mail today. _

_To address your concerns, I think it would be better if we didn't know each other's identities. This way you can imagine me however you want and I can imagine you however I want and neither of us will be disappointed. That way we also don't need to worry about being judged. For all I know, you just want to exchange letters so you can laugh at me, and that's fine, everyone should laugh a little more in life, but if that's the case, I would rather you not know who I am._

_About your other concern, I found you by throwing a dart at a map for the city and choosing a random word for the street name and a random number for your building and apartment. I checked to make sure the address actually existed before sending the letter._

_Now on to what our quest for salvation involves. I'm not really sure yet. I think the best we can do is to get to know each other and be there for each other, at least for now. I can be your outlet and whenever you get annoyed at life you can tell me about it and I can offer cheesy advice. Sound good to you?_

_Sincerely,_

_The Cheesy Advice Giver_

He had let out a little chuckle at the letter and the underlying humor. He had spent the next 2 hours thinking about how to respond. Thankfully, he managed to finish his letter before his girlfriend returned home.

He smiled as he drifted off to sleep, feeling an odd sort of sense of satisfaction.

That night, he dreamt of angels.

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean a lot and mean more chapters for you! Thanks so much for reading!**

**~Liliana**


	3. Chapter 2

**Finally a new chapter! Yay! Sorry it's taken me so long, I just wasn't really sure how to get the ball rolling. It's not the greatest but it's the best I could come up with after multiple failed attempts. I'm sorry it's so short, I promise to try to make the next chapters longer. You actually get to know their names in this chapter and a bit about the girl for a change, yay! Anyways, I hope you like it!  
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**Note: I will update at least once a month, if not more. I will try to update as much as possible but I can only promise one per month because my life is super hectic right now and I have extreme writer's block on all my stories. Still, I will do my best.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or the song Me and Mrs. Jones which in this chapter is sung by Michael Buble.**

Chapter 2:

_Me and Mrs. Jones,_

_We've got a thing going on,_

_We both know that it's wrong,_

_But it's much too strong to let it go now_

The song played quietly in the background of Noelle's favourite café, The Green Bean. She liked it, despite the fact that it was about an unfaithful woman. Michael Buble's voice was soft and calming and she could almost hear the regret in it as he sang about someone he could never truly have.

She sat at her seat by the window, just listening for a moment. She paid attention to the way his voice worked with the instruments and how the chords complimented the lyrics.

She was interrupted by a female voice asking her if she wanted more tea.

"No thank you," Noelle declined politely. The waitress nodded and went off to someone else's table.

Noelle stared out the window, watching as the raindrops raced down the pane of glass. Her left hand played notes on an imaginary piano in time with the music.

They told her she was musically talented, that she had a gift. No matter how hard she tried to believe them, she couldn't. How "talented" could she be if she couldn't write her own music? The furthest she had ever gotten were a few lines of lyrics, a couple bars of song.

Her words never fit the tune and no matter how hard she tried, nothing ever sounded quite right. She didn't want to play pieces by Mozart or Beethoven or even The Beatles. She didn't want to make a living off of others.

She sighed and looked down at the blank sheet of paper in front of her for a moment, before taking a sip of tea and picking up a pen.

_Dear friend,_ she wrote. _Do you ever try so hard at something only to be disappointed time and time again?_

* * *

><p>Elizabeth was singing. She wasn't particularly good but she wasn't bad either. Besides, she always did this; she always sang in the shower and Will was used to it by now. As usual, it was some annoying new pop song that Will had never heard before.<p>

Will didn't know much about music. He didn't really have time to listen to it, considering he spent almost every hour of his day at work and the rest of his time was for Elizabeth or sleeping. Music was a luxury he couldn't afford, though by the sounds of what he had heard from Elizabeth, he wasn't really sure if he wanted to. What they called "music" these days didn't seem worth while anyways.

The bathroom was connected to the bedroom where Will was at that moment, laying down, staring up at the ceiling. He usually would get up right away but today something stopped him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was thinking; thinking about the recent letter he had received.

_And as I sit here, listening to the lyrics of this song, I wonder if I am doomed to be like them; like everyone else. To never be extraordinary in any way, to never be someone special. _

_I know it's selfish but I want to be remembered. It doesn't have to be by the world, just by one person is enough, but at least by_ someone.

_I don't want to live an ordinary life. I want to travel, to see, to love. I want to do it all; everything I can. But how can I do that if I can't pull myself out of this miserable routine? To live is to be spontaneous. I can't even order a new type of drink. Are we forever cursed to this mundane and empty existence or are we made for something more?_

He lay there, letting the remembered words of the letter wash over him. He wondered if he would ever break from routine. He wanted to do something new, something exciting. It was something that Angel seemed to understand, something they seemed to struggle with together.

They both wanted to be more than they were. They weren't happy with the lives they led. They wanted bigger and better things but how could either of them achieve that when they didn't dare stray from the familiarity of regular life?

It only then occurred to him that he was breaking his routine slightly at that very moment, by laying in bed thinking. He was doing something he rarely did, changing things, even just ever so slightly.

All this; listening to Elizabeth sing, laying on the right side of the bed, waiting for his turn in the shower, all that was part of the routine.

The letters, however, were not.

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean so much to me and also mean more chapters for you! Tell me what you think! Also I would love it if you wrote down some possible career ideas for Will. Right now he has a job but he wants to be something different, I'm just not sure what yet. Any help would be greatly appreciated! **

**Thank you and I hope you enjoyed the chapter (you now know Noelle),**

**~Liliana**


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